


confrontation

by omello



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Cheating, College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omello/pseuds/omello
Summary: Anton confronts Wes a few days after finding out he cheated.





	confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> a small snippet of a college au I was talking about w my buddy @thescrewtapedemos awhile back! they wanted to see Anton cry so really who am I to say no ♡

The door was looming. It was dark and threatening, and Anton was already shaking. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. There was so much confusion, sadness, and anger pent up inside of him— he at least had to know  _ why _ .

 

The first knock received no answer, and it immediately occurred to him to give up. This was the world giving him a second chance to just drop it, drop everything, drop Wes. Forever.

 

But he knocked again.

 

This time, the answer came quickly. The door swung open, and Wes was staring down at him. Other than looking a bit shocked to see Anton, he seemed fine. He didn't seem distraught whatsoever, and that set something off in the German.

 

“Fuck you,” Anton said shakily before Wes could fully register he was at his doorway. His resolve was breaking already. “ _ Fuck _ you, Wesley.” He pushed his way into the dorm room, jabbing a finger at Wes’ chest, who went back without much of a fight.

 

“I thought you were fucking done with me,” Wes sneered, arms crossed over his chest. Anton had already come to him the other day demanding to know if Dillon was telling the truth, if Wes really  _ had _ cheated on him and slept with his best friend. Wes  _ laughed _ in his face then, admitting fully that yes, he did. He wasn't remorseful whatsoever.

 

“ _ Why? _ ” Anton demanded, not breaking eye contact with the older man. He knew he was trembling already, could  _ feel _ it, and the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes betrayed his tone. 

 

Wes shrugged again, and it took everything within Anton not to just freak out, start yelling, start crying —  _ something _ . He wouldn't be able to keep his calm for much longer, and he knew this.

 

“I wanted to, and Dillon was willing,” Wes eventually replied, but it didn't help the situation at all, really. It was a pisspoor excuse, and Anton was only shaking that much harder.

 

“I loved you, Wes. I  _ still _ love you,” Anton sobbed, and he had to tear his gaze away, fists dropping to clench at his sides before he continued. “Did you ever feel the same..?”

 

Wes didn't reply, and Anton didn't look up. Didn't want to. He wasn't sure he could handle either response.

 

“Did this past year and a half mean  _ nothing _ to you?”

 

The words were choked, weak, barely a whisper. Anton didn't stop himself when he leaned forward, gravitating towards his ex-boyfriend’s body, and pressed his face to his chest. Wes didn't move to stop him either, but he also didn't embrace him.

 

Again, a response never came.

 

Anton gave up asking, gave up begging and pleading for an answer, and settled on clutching at Wes’ shirt as he sobbed against him. If he could hear the way Wes’ heart was speeding with every sound and movement, he never mentioned it. 

 

“Fuck you,” Anton repeated, voice muffled by the man’s chest. “I hate you. I  _ hate _ you. Why would you  _ do _ this to me?”

 

The words were raw and broken— this was the worst Wes had ever seen Anton, and they'd been through a lot together. A  _ lot _ . 

 

It was suddenly becoming all too real, the realization of what Wes had done.  _ He _ was the one that had destroyed Anton like this. He’d ruined him, left him a fucking  _ mess _ .

 

In any other situation, he’d thrive off of this. He'd feel powerful. But seeing Anton in this state — Anton, the one person he'd put all his love and trust into for the past, what, year and a half of his life? — it made him feel…  _ weak _ . Absolutely awful. Anton was the last person that deserved this.

 

Reality was dawning on him cold and hard and  _ too fucking quick _ , and Wes needed to get out of here.

 

“You need to go,” he said quickly, cursing the panic that slipped into his tone. Anton was too delirious to notice it, and Wes really wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

 

Anton’s sobs died down into a shaky sniffle, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I do.” 

 

Wes was once again shocked by Anton’s actions, expecting him to have put up more of a fight, to continue begging and sobbing in his doorway. 

 

Anton detached from Wes’ shirt then, still refusing to look him in the eyes as he rubbed at his own, and turned to go. He stopped before he walked out the door, as though he had something more to say, but nothing came. Recollecting himself with a short breath, Anton was gone moments later. No goodbye.

 

Wes was left to stare after him for a few minutes before he closed the door. It wasn't until now that he realized  _ he _ was trembling as well, and he refused to acknowledge the tears he was forcing back.

 

It was too late for reconciliation. Anton was gone, out of his life for good, and he’d have to live with it. He just wasn’t sure if he knew how.


End file.
